


Can't Cry Hard Enough

by Pfain Ryder (Cat_Moon)



Category: Quantum Leap
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-31
Updated: 2013-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-25 05:58:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/949458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cat_Moon/pseuds/Pfain%20Ryder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it real, or is it leap?  The lines blur for Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can't Cry Hard Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This story was originally printed in "Wham Bam, Thank You, Sam #1"

_Gonna open my eyes and see for the first time_   
_I've let go of you like a child letting go of his kite_   
_There it goes, up in the sky, there it goes, for no reason why_   
_And now that you're gone, I can't cry hard enough_   
_No, I can't cry hard enough_   
_For you to hear me now..._

\--D. Williams/M. Etzioni

 

April 12, 1989:

 

The halls were quiet and deserted this time of night. Shadows hung heavy, pooled into the corners and seeping under the furniture. The only sign of life was the glow of Bernie's cigarette as he sat vigil in his cubicle. A cough here and there.

It wasn't always this silent, though. Too often the peace would be shattered by the screams of trapped minds. Dreams that were, to them, all too real.

I should have just gone home, but I wanted to check on him first. So I stood beside the bed, staring down at his shuttered face. A face that must have been so alive and expressive once. Eyes that would pierce you even with their glaze of madness. Often times I would've sworn they were looking straight into my soul--begging, pleading with me for an answer. For help.

He disrupted the other patients with his elaborate fantasy world, sometimes forcing them to play along, until we had to drug him again. He was so convinced of his truth, nothing could budge him, not even electro-shock. Let me get it straight right from the start--I was against it. As far as I'm concerned, it's an archaic torture device that has no place in modern psychiatric treatment. But I was over-ruled. They were willing to try almost anything on this one. The hopeless case.

He moaned a little in his sleep, and my hand automatically went out to brush the hair from his face. He looked so innocent in sleep, the type you just want to protect. Still young, he could have a whole life ahead of him if I could only end his twenty-four hour nightmare.

The lines between genius and madness are all too thin. This one had tumbled over the edge. Now no one cared about the life he'd once had, even his family had given up on him long ago. They only visited once a year now, dutifully, like a trip to the cemetery.

If it sounds like I was too attached to this one, so be it. I know all about keeping a professional distance from patients -- but my bedside manner always did stink. Always more useful in my lab, with my research. It's just that... this one was my research. We'd--I'd--hoped this new drug would work, bring him out of his prison. So far, there had been no change.

Well, now that I'd gotten myself good and depressed, it was time to drag myself home, feed the cat and collapse with a brandy. Tony was away on business again, but solitude and I were old friends. I wondered what the business's 'name' was this time... not that I'd been faithful over the years, not in my wildest stretch of imagination. Maybe I was just getting old. It seemed these things bothered me more than they should, more than they used to. Yet there was something inside me that couldn't settle down, commit to anything but a casual, open relationship. This one had lasted three years. I wondered how much longer it would continue.

Well, I still had my cat. She wasn't mine, actually, I was just looking after her for someone who was unable to. My famous 'case' had owned her. When the family cleaned out his apartment, they couldn't take her back with them and were going to take her to the pound. I couldn't let them, so I took her in. That was back in the days when I was idealistic and optimistic and was sure he'd recover swiftly Now, I didn't think I had to worry about giving her up any time soon. Any time, period.

Maybe I'd make that brandy a highball.

 

* * *

I woke up slowly, my sense of disorientation on the extreme side. I must have leaped in during sleep, and was now waking normally. I looked around, trying to get some sort of hold on where I was. Something about the surroundings disturbed me, so I got up to do some investigating. Unfortunately, it didn't take me long to figure out what it was--I had leaped into another mental ward patient.

I shivered and hugged myself, wishing Al would show up early for once. The idea of doing another leap like that sent panic through me. I didn't like it one bit already. I sent a prayer out for this one to be over quickly.

A woman in white approached me and I jumped back involuntarily. I couldn't panic, had to keep calm and be careful not to act anything but perfectly sane. Was she there to drug me?

"I see you're awake, sleepyhead," she said with a smile, leading me back to bed.

There was something familiar about her, like I'd seen her somewhere before, but my mind was a blank on where. Another leap?

"You slept through breakfast," she informed me, continuing on as if not expecting me to carry my part of the conversation. "But that's okay, the doc said the new drug might have unexpected side-effects."

"Drug? What drug?" I asked. I decided I'd better pull a miraculous recovery for this guy so I could get the hell out. "What are you giving me?"

She stared at me a moment. "You never cared before. In fact, you never seemed to notice much except---" She cut off.

"Well, I care now, I think I have a right to know."

"I... think I'd better get the doctor."

"Good, I want to talk to him." I watched her leave, satisfied with myself. Obviously, she was surprised at my lucidity. They surprises in store for them.

Unfortunately, so did I.

Mere seconds later several people ran into the room, clustering around a figure in a white lab coat. He ushered them back and they stood out of the way, watching. Again, I had that strange sense of deja vu. Where was Al?

The man turned and approached my bed, talking to me. I didn't hear a word he said, I was too busy staring in shock at a face too impossibly familiar...

"Al?" I breathed, as he stopped beside the bed. "What are you doing here--like--?" Something was very wrong with this scenario, but I was having trouble making sense of it.

He favored me with an odd but slightly amused grin. "I work here. What are _you_ doing here?"

I opened my mouth. Then I closed it again. This man was an incredible duplicate for my Al, right down to the first name, obviously. But he wasn't my Al. This one was sticking a thermometer into my mouth as he held a stethoscope to my chest.

"You know," he said as he finished, "we doctors do prefer the more formal last names, but in your case, I'm prepared to make an exception." He smiled at me. I realized it was almost as easy to read his face as my own Al's. He was relieved, barely containing his joy. I figured the guy I leaped into had been catatonic or something. And this doctor cared deeply for his patients.

"Thank you, Doctor--" I searched out his name tag for the information.

It said 'Doctor Albert Calavicci.'

I must have blacked out, because the next thing I knew I was opening my eyes into a worried face.

"I thought we'd lost you again," he said. "You've been... away a long time. Do you know where you are?"

Twilight Zone? Nightmare? "Ah... hospital. Mental..." I shut down firmly on the stray scary thought that had bounced into my head. Somehow, I had to keep myself calm until Al could get there and tell me what the hell was going on. I really needed him right now.. where was he?!

"Very good," he praised. "That's a big improvement over yesterday. Try this one--what's your name?"

"I--" That was one I couldn't even fake; unfortunately the patients didn't wear name tags. I looked at him blankly, hoping he wouldn't see it as a large setback. I couldn't help wondering what the drugs prescribed for this guy would do to me if I was forced to take them.

"It's okay," he soothed, patting my arm. "At least you're in touch with reality again. Now we have to get you to come with it, Sam."

My ears fastened on that name. "Sam... No!" I struggled, the panic breaking free. I tried to bolt off the bed.

Instantly, two orderlies were beside the doctor, one holding a straight jacket, with a face I instantly recognized...

"Gooshie, no," the doctor told the one with the jacket, putting out a hand to keep them back. "It won't be necessary, will it, Sam?"

"No..." I whimpered. Suddenly, nothing made sense. I knew what the expression scared witless meant, my mind was a jumbled mess. Maybe it was a dream. Or an alternate universe. One I did not want to be in.

"Al!" I screamed suddenly, willing him to appear.

"I'm right here!" the doctor called, thinking he had to get through to me. "Sam, if you don't calm down right now, I'm going to have to give you a shot. You don't want that, do you?"

I shook my head mutely, collapsing against the pillows. I was making my situation worse. Besides, I was exhausted. The fight left me in a rush. "Do what you want..." I mumbled.

"We're not going to hurt you, I promise."

Damn this impostor, he was using Al's voice and trust meant for him. And it was working. Maybe because, until my hologram showed, I needed someone to look to. And he really did seem to care.

"Tina," he said to the blonde nurse hovering nearby. "Clear the room, will you? Sam and I need to have a talk."

Almost before I could blink, the room was empty except for the two of us. He finished his examination shortly and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Okay, Sam, I understand why you're confused and scared. It's not easy to suddenly came back to a strange world."

"You're telling me," I muttered.

"But you've made great improvement, thanks to the new experimental drug we tried. I shouldn't be telling you all this, but you remember the expression 'physician heal thyself'? Since you do have a medical degree yourself, I think you have a right to know."

"What's my last name?" Not that I really wanted to know.

He paused. "It's Beckett, Sam Beckett." He must have noticed my flinch, because he continued in a rush. "I think if we work together, we can get you well again. But you have to want to get better."

"It isn't true," I cried, tears sliding down my face. "I don't want to hear this..."

He patted my arm. "Okay, you rest now, then. We'll talk again later."

As he started to rise, I reached out and grabbed his arm. "Don't go! Stay until my--" I cut off.

He sat back down. "Until what?"

"What happened to me?" I asked dully. It wasn't like I really believed any of this. It wasn't possible. There was an explanation for it. When Al arrived, he'd clear up the confusion.

"You've been very sick for a long time," he began.

"Crazy, you mean."

He smirked slightly. "If you really prefer. I'm the doctor assigned to your case. Actually, I'm more into the research side of things. Dr. Beeks is our head honcho in charge of the patients here, so remember to be nice to her."

"Where am I?"

"The Quantego Complex, in New Mexico. We're an experimental psychiatric hospital. The patients here are all considered hopeless guinea pigs--but you're gonna help me prove it works. That we can help others like you."

"Maybe then I can leap," I mumbled.

"Leap?" he asked.

I ignored it. I didn't want to ask, but I had to. "Is my mother's name Thelma?" He nodded. "Father, John? We lived on a farm in Elkridge, Indiana?" With each nod of his head, my world shattered into littler pieces. The happier he got, the more dread ate up my insides.

"That's very good, Sam." He studied me a minute, mistaking my reaction for something else. "But I think that's enough for one day. You have a lot to digest."

I grabbed his arm before he could start to get up. "No, please, I--I have to know everything now. Is Tom alive?"

He watched me closely, apparently gauging my mental state. When he spoke, his voice was gentle. "No, he died in Vietnam. We think that's one of the things which lead to your eventual breakdown. There were things that happened -- but I really don't think you're ready to hear it all yet. We have to take things slow."

"Did we meet before?" I held my breath, praying for at least one shred of normalcy.

"The first time I saw you was when they brought you in."

I regarded him, hoping against hope that this Al would give me at least the benefit of the doubt. Mine had always believed in all my crazy dreams. "What would you say if I told you that I've spent the last few years stuck traveling in time, when my experiment called Project Quantum Leap went wrong?" Surely Al would show up now. He usually had impeccable timing when I was giving away secrets I wasn't supposed to. "That Gooshie was our head programmer and Tina your girlfriend?"

Oddly, that got a genuine bark of laughter out of him. Then he sobered. "The mind is a fascinating thing. When you left the real world, you created another for yourself. A very intricate one, it seems."

How could I believe him? But until my Al showed up--or not--I didn't have anything else to go on. If it was true, it meant I'd lost my Al forever. Never really had any of it. All gone. I felt the weight of time pressing on me once again. I felt alone.

My eyes snapped up to his as I felt fingers brush away tears I didn't realize were there. "I know it's hard, Sam. But you can do it--you're already past the worst of it! You've got your whole life ahead of you now.

What life? I thought. I was just told it didn't exist, that all I was, was a patient in a mental hospital.

"Get some rest," he suggested.

This time I didn't stop him physically. But I did reach out a hand into the air. "I... Could you maybe.. sit with me until I fall asleep? Please, I don't want to be alone." I felt ashamed, unveiling a weakness to a stranger, begging for a small measure of kindness from someone who knew me only as another patient. If my Al were there, I'd have no such awkwardness.

As if I could have gotten rid of him had he been here. I smiled, warmed at the thought of his caring, as Doctor Calavicci sat down on the bedside chair.

But he wasn't real...

I buried my head into the pillow to hide my tears, and gladly fell into the void of sleep. And, hopefully, dreams...

* * *

I stretched my legs and put my feet up on the coffee table. The apartment was quiet, but the good kind of quiet. The cat jumped on my lap and promptly began cleaning herself. I petted her absently, sipping at my drink. What kind of guy names a cat Pythagoras? A female cat, at that? I called her Pythy for short, which kept my lisp in good working order, was a scream among my more 'colorful' friends, and annoyed Tony all to hell and back. A worthwhile cause.

The drug worked. I should have been envisioning myself the star of medical and science journals, articles in the magazines, maybe even that Nobel -- like I'd dreamed of for years. Sam was going to be my ticket to greater things. I chose the most hopeless case and went to war against it, knowing the quickest road to success was to accomplish the impossible.

But now that he was awake, I found things were different. He wasn't a case--a rung in the ladder of success. He was a human being. A scared, confused, helpless little boy. Who needed the help of another human being, not an opportunist.

Me. He needed my help, and I had a feeling no one else would do. He hadn't said it in so many words, but the hints he'd given led me to believe that the whole staff of the hospital, and maybe even the patients, had figured prominently in his make-believe world. Me, the most important of all.

Now that he was lucid and more aware of reality, the difficult part of my task was ahead. A certain patient-doctor dependence is a natural occurrence, but he was in an especially vulnerable position. It was me he zeroed in on, which would make that dependence extra strong. This might very well ease my job of helping him, but there would come a time when he'd have to let go and get on with his life. That part, I had a feeling, wouldn't be easy. I had to tread a very careful line with Mr. Beckett. I guessed I'd better brush up on my bedside manner, and quick.

If I thought those eyes of his were bad enough without any recognition of his surroundings in them, I'd gotten a jolt today. It was worse than I imagined it would be. He looked at me as if I alone could put a Band-Aid on his boo-boo, kiss it and make it all better. In all my years, I'd never seen that much naked dependence in anyone, and frankly, it scared the hell out of me. An imaginary friend would never let you down, but a very real doctor--sometimes we just don't have all the answers. I didn't even know if the drug's effects would be permanent, or if he'd develop a tolerance to it. So many ifs... And him, looking at me with those beautiful, pleading eyes, as if I was his guardian angel or something.

I wasn't kidding myself, either. This patient-doctor thing could work both ways. He touched something inside of me, I cared more than I should. It's one thing you don't dare let a patient, especially one in his position, know. If you do, they'll take advantage, to their own disadvantage in the end. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't anything immoral on my part--although being human, that does happen with us doctors more often than we'd like to admit. Doctors are vulnerable, too, but we're not allowed to be human, to have feelings. Anyway, this was more accurately located in the vicinity of my heart, than below. Not that he wasn't good looking.. .but I was definitely not the type of person to take advantage of someone who needed me.

And I had proof of that. Marty and I had lived together for three years and not once did I touch him in anything but friendship. Even though I was crazy about him. He was unsure, confused; he needed a buddy, not a lover. And every time I look at the picture of him and Sylvia and the kids, all smiles, I felt good about myself.

Also, despite his eccentric cat naming ritual, to the best of my knowledge, Beckett was straight. Over the years, I came to practically know his extensive file by heart. Another of the blows that accumulated to send him over the edge was his fiancé leaving him standing at the altar. It seemed he never got over that, or any of it, for that matter. Sam was one of those super sensitive people, who take things harder than is healthy for them. His bond with his brother was unusually intense, too, from what I'd learned. And the bond with the Al in his fantasy... Well, I'd have to have a long talk with Sam, find out exactly what role I did play in his subconscious.

Not exactly the kind of fantasy I'd envision playing a role in for a good-looking man, I'll say that.

The phone rang and I glanced at the clock. Right on cue. I picked up the receiver with one hand, scratching Pythy behind the ears with the other. "Hi, Tone."

"Hi, Al," came a weary-sounding voice.

"What's up?" Scintillating conversation.

"The usual, meetings until a God-awful time. I'm so tired I can't see straight--excuse the pun, love."

"A queer pun, from you? God, you must be tired!" I quipped, almost not unkindly.

"Anything new at home?" he asked, ignoring the dig.

"Oh, yeah!" I brightened, excitedly filling him in. "Remember that patient of mine, Beckett? He woke up today. He actually came out of it! He's not out of the woods yet, but--"

I heard a male voice, laughing, as I was interrupted. "That's great, Al, but I gotta hang up now. Room service just arrived with my dinner and I just wanna grab a shower and get to bed."

"I'm sure you do, Tony. See you."

He mumbled a reply and I hung up.

I don't know why I stuck with him. Too much bother to do anything about it, I guess. Easier to just keep on keeping on. My luck, just when I was starting to contemplate the horrible notion of settling down, he'd get the seven-year itch four years too early.

I dimmed the lights, grabbed another brandy and the mystery I was in the middle of reading, and went to bed.

* * *

Where was Rod Serling when you needed him? Right up there on my TV screen. I wondered why I had a television. Maybe they figured I'd return to reality quicker by observing the 'real world.'

I chuckled.

"You seem like you're feeling better today," Tina remarked, busying herself with minor duties. Aside from Al, she was the only person I felt even remotely comfortable around, and I was glad to have her there.

"How long have you been a nurse, Tina?"

"Since I graduated. Oh," she giggled. "That wasn't a wise-crack. I meant I went on right from high school. It's all I ever wanted to be. Was I really in your--special world?"

I smiled gratefully. It hurt to discuss, but I appreciated her gentleness in finding a nicer term for it. "You were indispensable to the Project. Actually, you were also Al's girlfriend."

"Al's... Oh, we're just friends. I mean, not that I wouldn't be-- Well, he is good-looking, and nice. But he's never seemed interested in me."

"He's never been a skirt-chaser?" I asked, almost regretfully. I guess I was hoping for as many similarities as I could get.

"Our Al? Hardly. He keeps to himself mostly."

My hand brushed her thigh accidentally as she bent over to take my pulse and I found my hand being slapped.

"I think you're the skirt-chaser!" she scolded.

I could feel myself turning red. "It was an accident--"

"After all," she continued, ignoring me. "You're the one who invented him."

I decided it prudent to change the topic. "So Gooshie's an orderly."

She chuckled and bent closer to whisper conspiratorially. "Actually, he's also a patient. But he likes to play orderly and he's good at the job, so we let him. We do things a bit differently here."

"So I see."

"I have to go now, Sam. But Doctor Calavicci will be in to see you soon." She patted my cheek and left.

I had to admit, for a mental hospital, it wasn't too bad. Nothing they'd done so far had put me on the defensive, although I knew sooner or later it would be pill time. Maybe if I just accepted it quietly, then only pretended to swallow...

No way was I gonna take some experimental drug meant for someone else. The hologram still hadn't shown up, though. It was hard to keep calm. If it weren't for the other Al, I don't know if I could've handled it. And the more time passed without my Al, the more the thread of doubt grew...

But I kept telling myself maybe Ziggy couldn't find me because I was in an alternate universe. The existence of such was widely accepted in quantum physics, but we hadn't figured on my leaping into one. I had to complete the leap and get out. So far, it seemed a good bet I was there to save this Sam. And I wanted to, myself. Couldn't let the poor guy rot there. I had to convince everyone he was okay now.

* * *

Al arrived shortly after Tina left. He was all smiles. That nagged at me. With my Al, it usually meant he was up to something. But I kept reminding myself, this wasn't my Al.

"How's my favorite patient today?" he asked.

"Okay, I guess."

"Now that you're back in reality, it's been decided we can schedule regular therapy sessions. Now, normally I don't do that part of it, but I convinced Dr. Beeks to allow me to take over your case."

I couldn't hide my relief at his news.

He smiled slightly. "Actually, I think she was glad I volunteered. We may be innovative, but we still suffer from some of the less pleasant aspects, like excessive caseloads."

"It's a sign of the times," I told him.

"--Hey, I like that song. Anyway, do you want to do this sitting in a stuffy office, or outside in the fresh air?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"I'll take that as your answer, then."

* * *

The grounds were large and actually almost pleasant--if you could forget for one moment that you were in a loony bin. They'd hidden the fence carefully, you had to look really close to see it behind the vines and bushes. Patients milled about, most of them wandering without destination. Al led me to a table beneath a tree and opened up a sixteen ounce bottle of Coke, handing another to me.

"What kind of psycho-therapy is this?" I asked, taking a drink.

He raised one eyebrow. "Do you want to lay on my couch?"

"Some other time," I quipped back. "So where do we start?"

"Where do you want to start?"

I sighed, disappointed. "Now you're starting to sound like a shrink."

"I'm actually a research psychologist, but don't tell anybody."

I paused, staring at the tree trunk. "I... How can my memories be so elaborate, if it's all in my mind?" I met his eyes. "I remember almost every leap, every detail is so clear..." I was begging him for something I knew he couldn't give. My life back.

"I don't know. No one knows yet what goes on in the mind of a schizophrenic. Look at the victims of MPD, who create completely new personalities for themselves, with different brainwaves to go with them. You're the only one this far gone to recover."

"Maybe I don't want to recover." I cursed myself for my slip. It was going to be tougher than I thought. I could pretend to the others well enough, but it seemed I'd have to learn not to respond to this one as I did my Al.

He didn't act surprised by my statement, either. That worried me. Instead, he seemed to ignore it. "I want to talk about your 'other' world. Would you agree to write some of it down for me?"

"I'd like that," I told him honestly. "I don't want to... In case I start to forget..." I trailed off morosely.

"Tell me about...Al," he asked quietly.

"You--he--you--were the project observer. You appeared to me in the form of a hologram tuned to my brainwaves."

"In the time travel experiment?"

I nodded, and continued haltingly. "We--worked on the Starbright Project first, that's where we met. You--he--" I broke off, unable to go on. It hurt too much.

"You did work on that project, Sam. Shortly after, you ended up here." He paused. "You and Al were close friends, I gather."

I brushed angrily at the tears on my face. "You--he believed in me, when everybody else thought I was crazy. Made my dream come true." His face had darkened. Suddenly, I was angry. I jumped up. "You're not helping me, you're taking my life away! You're not Al--Al would at least keep an open mind about my theories and help me prove them!"

"Calm down, Sam."

"No, I won't!" I gestured around me. "You're not offering me anything here--you're taking the only life I know away! What do I have here?"

"If you don't sit down and relax, you'll have to go back inside," he warned in what I used to know as Al's Admiral voice. But suddenly there was no caring Al in him. It was all clinical professionalism. I was a patient to him, nothing more. I felt my heart tearing.

"I don't give a shit!" I informed him. "And I'm not taking that drug of yours, either!"

He actually smiled. The reason for his response was obvious when he saluted me with the soda meaningfully.

"You bastard!" I yelled, backing away from him. I tripped over a root and landed on my butt. From there, I inched backwards until my back was against the tree trunk. "You had no right--you tricked me!"

He approached me slowly, carefully, as if not to frighten away a scared animal. That's what I was to him. Nothing more. "Wouldn't your Al trick you, if it was for your own good? If he was only thinking of you?"

He knew the tricks all right. All the pretty words to say to push the right buttons. It was obscene to use it against me that way. I broke down into sobs, burying my face in my hands. I wanted to see my Al so bad at that moment that I wanted to find him or die trying.

The doctor's hands were on my shoulders then and I didn't have the strength to push them away. "I know it hurts, Sam. There are times when all of us would rather live in a pretend world than the real one."

I shook my head violently. At least I could refuse to listen to him.

"Could you use a hug, maybe?" he asked softly. "I may not be Al, but I'm here. We all are. And we care about you, really."

I hated him more in that moment than I'd ever hated another human being. But I flung my arms around his neck anyway, accepted his comfort. A hug, the one thing I'd never been able to get from my Al when I needed it.

"He sounds like a pretty terrific person. But he's not real, Sam. You'll be trapped in time until you admit and accept that. When you do, you can go out and find someone who's really there. You won't come home until you want to."

I wouldn't listen to his words. They were meaningless to me. Instead I concentrated on the sound of his voice, the arms holding me. I was tired of fighting, of holding on. I never could do it without Al. Never would have been strong enough to hang on and do it alone. I couldn't now.

I was losing the fight.

* * *

I sat at my desk, way past the time I should have been home in bed. To call this one a challenge was definitely an understatement. I was beginning to wonder if I was in over my head and should get out, turn him over to someone more equipped to deal with it. Like I said, I didn't work with people, I dealt with pure research. Until Sam Beckett had come into my life. Maybe I was doing him more harm than good.

But maybe I really was helping...

I hadn't exactly found out the answer to my question today, but I'd had a hint of the depth of the feelings Sam had for his Al. It was worse than I'd imagined. 'He believes in me' pretty much summed it up, dangerously. Remembering what I'd read about his family, I wondered if this Al was a symbol for his dead brother. Perhaps I should concentrate on getting him to accept his brother's death.

There was a good sign in all of this, though. He'd said 'you're not Al.' As long as he remembered that, it wasn't so serious. At least he knew these people weren't the ones he'd made up, and didn't seem to get confused about it. Actually...he seemed pretty normal, all in all. Kinda like the stress you'd expect a time traveler to be experiencing in a situation like this--

What the hell was I thinking?! He made it so damned believable sometimes. The intricacies of the human mind never cease to amaze me, especially the 'mentally ill.' Wasn't I a pioneer in this field? Didn't I once believe that reality is a state of mind? That could be my key. I was trying to force Sam to accept something he knew wasn't true--that none of it was real. The other universe he spoke of did exist--in his mind, but no less real, at least to him. It was making more and more sense. My extensive reading had included a few quantum physics books, so I wasn't a stranger to the concepts. Given Sam's area of expertise, it was no wonder he was using a lot of those principles in his weakened state.

I had to make him want to live in this world. For that, I had to come between him and Al. I had a feeling I was in for a world class fight.

For starters, I'd contact his family. Now that it was looking more and more like the drug was a success, there was no reason not to tell them the good news. If they flew in for a visit, it might have a beneficial effect on Sam. At least he'd see there was someone waiting for him--a reason to stay with us.

There was a knock at my door and Beeks poked her head in. "You're still here."

"On my way out, Verbena. What can I do for you?"

"I just wanted to ask how things are going with our patient?"

I couldn't help the excitement from showing in my voice. This is the most fascinating case I've ever seen, Verbena. I admit, I was almost ready to give up, but inspiration has struck tonight. I think I'm onto a breakthrough.

"Don't forget to thank me," she commented wryly.

"Huh?" I asked.

"When you're accepting your Nobel. There's another reason I stopped by. Tina says Sam was asking for you."

"I'll look in on him on my way out. 'Night, Verbena."

"Good night, Al." She closed the door quietly behind her.

* * *

The hospital was quiet, as usual. Only this time when I stood at his bedside, he looked up at me with sleepy, but alert eyes.

"You let them give you a sleeping pill," I noted.

He nodded.

I sat on the edge of the bed. "But you can't start getting in that habit. You've done too much sleeping. It's time to wake up and face the world." I spoke quietly, ever mindful of his sudden bursts of temper and mood swings.

"I don't dream about the Project," he told me sadly. "I thought I would."

I sighed. "Maybe that's a good thing. Sam, I want to apologize to you."

"Huh? For what?"

"For telling you your other world wasn't real." His eyes grew wide, but wary. "I realized tonight that it is very real to you. I've read a few quantum physics books in my time. What I'm trying to say is, that other universe does exist." I reached out to touch his forehead. "In here. I should have believed you." As soon as the word was out, I realized what I'd said. Sure enough, I saw something in his eyes I hadn't seen before. Hope. And trust. Some of the things he'd reserved for his Al.

"Thank you," he whispered. After a pause, he continued quietly, with a fond smile. "Al used to watch me while I slept sometimes, during the more rough leaps. He didn't know I knew it, but I used to wake up and see him there. It always made me feel safe..."

"He must have cared about you a lot," I said, still fishing for clues as to the extent of their relationship. I had to use care, though. After all, I was Albert Calavicci.

"I would have been lost without him."

"I'm honored to share his name."

"Can--could you get me some books?" he asked, changing the topic very abruptly. I didn't know why, but it wasn't time to push yet. "I'd like to do some research of my own. If it's okay?"

It was asked so hesitantly. I'd won him over, but would I regret it? "Sure. I'll bring some of my own from home, tomorrow."

"Where do you live?" he asked conversationally.

"In an apartment outside of town. Remember Pythagoras?"

He brightened at the name, then frowned. "Is she--?"

"She's fine. Your family couldn't take her, so I've kept her for you. I warn you, we may have to work out a custody arrangement when you get out."

He laughed--for the first time. It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard. "I remember... she was only a kitten when I got her." His brow creased and I had a feeling he was recalling something he didn't want to. "I was working at the Starbright Project at the time."

Maybe we were on to something. "What happened to her, in your world?"

"I... don't remember..." His answer upset him, but to me it was a step in the right direction. "But there was an.... accident at--" He stopped abruptly and I saw a shutter close over him.

I had to open it right away, before it stuck. "Yes, Sam. An accident. It was electrical. You suffered a nasty shock." He didn't want to hear it, but he had to. "When you recovered physically, well, your mind just didn't come along."

"That's why I'm so afraid of electro-shock..." he murmured slowly, comprehension dawning.

"That wasn't my idea, believe me. They wanted to try everything to bring you out of it. And you have my word, never again. It took us a week to calm you down," I remembered.

He wasn't denying, but the tears had started again. Damn him, how did he expect me to maintain professional detachment when he was looking at me with that pathetically sad expression?

"Maybe..." he began, then stopped abruptly.

"Say it, Sam."

He shook his head in denial and I realized I was lost. This man chose me to be his lifeline. Whatever his reasons, I just didn't have the heart to let him down. Maybe, by some miracle, he himself would let go of the apron strings I was about to forge, when the time came. Besides, I doubted he'd ever recover at all without my help.

"Say it," I repeated gently.

"Maybe... it's.. .true..." The last so low I could barely hear, but he'd said it. He looked up at me with tear-filled eyes and I knew I was well on my way to being guilty of murder. I was killing his Al, forcing him to let go of the one thing that kept him going. A gap like that couldn't be left empty.

"I'm sorry, Sam," I said, pulling him close.

"It hurts..." he cried. "God, it hurts so much!"

"I know," I soothed, feeling my eyes fill as well.

"I'm alone..."

It broke my heart hearing those words. Hell, nobody wanted to be alone. But I couldn't respond, couldn't promise him something I wouldn't be able to deliver. All I could do was hold him for now.

He sobbed in my arms until, finally, he fell into an emotionally exhausted sleep.

* * *

I didn't sleep much myself that night. My decision, when made, would be irreversible. Did I really want to take on the kind of responsibility I was contemplating? It wasn't my problem, he was just a patient. You learn early, you can't save all of them. I was not obligated, even if I felt so. I didn't have to get so involved.

I was involved, thanks to Sam. There was no choice. I couldn't desert another human being in such need. And if he's in love with his Al? my mind insisted on reminding me.

Then we were both in a hell of a lot of trouble.

* * *

Dr. Al came by early that morning and delivered the books he'd promised. He didn't stay long, said he had work to do. Why should he want to spend time with me? I was just a patient, and a pain in the butt at that. My Al didn't mind putting up with me, but this one...had his own life and it didn't include a Sam Beckett. But he was kind to me and for that I was grateful. It made the loneliness and waiting a little easier to bear.

I was still holding out. Fighting my internal battle, refusing to let them win completely. Sometimes a little voice whispered it was all true, the biggest piece of evidence the absence of the hologram. But that hurt too much to contemplate. I knew I was right. I was lost somewhere, and if Al and Ziggy couldn't find me, then I'd have to find a way home myself.

That's what the books were for. Hopefully, if I jogged my memory, I'd figure a way out of this hell I was in. There had to be a solution. Until I found it, I'd bide my time and push the unthinkable to the back of my mind. I was right, they were wrong. I screwed up the leap, but I'd get out of it, somehow.

I had to.

* * *

I called the Beckett family the next day and told them the news. I could hear the disbelief in the voice, couldn't blame them. It had been a lot of years and too many doctors had levied hopeless booms.

In the days that followed, Sam devoured the books as fast as I could provide them. It should have been a good sign, but it put me on edge for some reason. At least he wasn't sleeping all the time. Now he was hardly ever sleeping. When he wasn't reading, he was writing down his leaps for me. Many a night, I took a bedtime story home with me. I never did get to finish that mystery. It was fascinating reading; as he'd said, elaborate. My Sam was going to go down in medical history for sure. Maybe I should give him the Nobel, for mind-research.

He bared his visit with the family stoically, but I knew inside he was having a rough time. They were just one more painful reminder of the real world he'd fought so hard against.

At least I had my question answered. Sort of. Apparently, unless he was leaving something out, he and Al were only very close friends. Al was a chronic skirt-chaser with five ex-wives, and while that always set off my alarm bells, it wasn't my fantasy. That and all the women Sam managed to get during the leaps eased my mind on that issue. Almost. Sam worshipped the ground the man walked on. He didn't come right out and say it, but his love and devotion was there in every word. His Al was unbelievable. A saint if ever there was one, interested only in Sam's welfare often to the sacrifice of himself. Totally devoted. Totally ridiculous. No man was that... pure, especially one as colorful as Al. And Sam's attachment to him bordered dangerously on obsession. Yeah, that was the word, for both of them. So that was what I was leaving myself open to. Being the object of a man's obsession. Damn my rotten luck, anyway. Fantasies, obsessions--and I hadn't gotten laid in weeks. Life just wasn't fair sometimes.

Maybe tonight I'd go out somewhere. Tony was still off in business-land. Speaking of my lover, I had to tell Sam about him soon. Just so there would be no misunderstandings. I didn't feel the time was right yet, though. His hold on reality was still so fragile.

And for now, I had to have a talk with Sam about his visit with his family.

* * *

Mom looked older. She cried when she saw me, and held me tight. Katie was there too, but Jim was on duty and couldn't make it. Mom brought me some of her peach cobbler, and Kate had gifts from her family, too. They both looked so happy to see me.

I didn't want to see them.

I needed moral support, but neither Al was anywhere in sight. It's not that I didn't love my family. High on being home and finally able to see them again, it was almost a. half hour of happy talking and reminiscing before the realization sunk in. This Sam's life was an absolute duplicate of mine. Except for the project.

Except for Al. It shouldn't have been that way, unless...

I was quiet after that, barely interested in the conversation. We discussed Mom's staying on the mainland to be near me, but I finally convinced her to go back to Hawaii by promising to write every week. There was no point in disrupting her life on account of me--any more than it already had been. No point in anyone wasting their time. I certainly didn't deserve it, I knew that as I felt guilty relief wash over me with the end of their visit.

As I waited for my therapy session, I toyed with the idea of them being right. Would it be so terrible a thing? I still had my family, and if I did things their way I'd be out of here in no time. The only thing missing was the project, and who knew? Maybe I could invent an accelerator when I got back to work. So the only thing really missing from my life was Al. Was that so bad?

Yes.

The only thing... everything. I couldn't believe in this world as mine and that was the only real reason. I would not--could not let go of him. They had to be wrong, I felt it. This wasn't my home.

* * *

We sat under Sam's favorite tree. He wasn't being very talkative, which told me he was upset.

"How'd it go?" I queried.

"I asked you to be there," he told me for answer, trace of reproach in his voice.

"I figured your family deserved some time with you." Not a total lie.

"Besides, you're only my doctor, right?" He pinned me with that accusing stare I knew had been hiding.

His swings from dependence to accusation were wearing on us both. "I know this was hard--"

He cut me off. "But you knew I couldn't spend time with them without facing the world that I'm stuck in now Did you ever think maybe I was better off there? Happier?"

"If you want to be that selfish," I told him boldly. "So now that your family knows you're awake, are you planning on going back into la-la land again?"

"What's it to you?!" he spat.

"I'd like to know whether or not I'm wasting my time," I replied.

His eyes flashed for just a moment. "Don't bother," he told me and stalked off.

I watched him go; he needed time to himself. I hadn't handled it well. I wondered what his Al would have done in such a situation. Not that it mattered, it was just as well if he was reminded who I wasn't. I'd known it wasn't going to be easy. Dealing with people never was, that's why I'd stayed with research.

* * *

I was angry, but it concealed a sadness too deep for words. I spent the rest of the day staring at the wall and everyone left me alone. They were making me doubt Al. How could I face him after? I didn't know if I could live with that. If only he'd show up and take away the fear which live inside of me all the time. The hollow emptiness that shared the space. If he never came, well, I knew I was lost.

I tried to shake off the morbid thoughts. I had to hang on, find a way out. For him. He'd be going crazy himself, trying to find me and not knowing what was going on. He had faith in me--I could do it! One way or the other, I'd get out of this place.

I needed to talk to Doctor Al, so I left my room and went to find him. Bernie Weitzman was the orderly on duty that night. He'd never liked me--this Sam. He had a habit of pushing me or making nasty comments. I'd always ignored him.

He glared at me. I glared back.

He gave me a shove as I passed him. "Watch where you're going, loony!" he grumbled contemptuously.

It gave me the impetus I needed, wanted. The final straw as they say. I lunged, tackling him and sending us both to the ground, struggling. He wasn't expecting it, so I used my advantage to strike out at him. Unfortunately, my martial arts moves seemed rusty--maybe the drug was slowing me down. I started losing the fight.

Finally, I managed to push him off and send him crashing into a table. He was stunned and it gave me a moment to get away. I had no desire to face his wrath when he found me and extracted his legal punishment. I knew all about that stuff. Visions of electroshock danced menacingly in my head. In a panic, I ran.

I made it outside and found myself slinking among the bushes along the fence. It made a good cover, but I knew they'd soon be looking. I knew what I wanted to do. Get far away from that place. Maybe then I could work on a way home. Without the drugs they were slipping me, maybe I'd go back to the 'pretend' world they called it. Right then, I didn't care. If it meant seeing Al again, I'd gladly go.

The fence had barbed wire on top. I took off my shirt and used it to sling over the spikes, then hoisted myself up and over. I fell to the ground on the other side and scrambled to my feet. I was woozy, my head hurt, but I couldn't stop. Had to get away. I conjured up the image of Al, coaching me on, telling me I could do it. And I ran.

Finally, I stumbled into someone's back yard. There was a large dog house there, and after making sure its occupant wasn't in sight, I crawled inside and collapsed. It was large enough to accommodate me nicely, I was glad the owner was gone. I needed time to catch my breath, figure out what to do. Maybe take a nap.

* * *

I woke to the sound of Al's voice. For a moment I just basked in the feel of it, soothing my nerves. It was quiet and calming, almost like a caress.

Then I was wide awake as I realized whose it was. I jumped up and scooted back against the wall. He was crouching next to me.

"Leave me alone," I warned.

He held out his hands in a placating gesture and glanced around. "Nice digs you got yourself here," he commented.

I glared at him, saying nothing.

After a minute, he shook his head impatiently. "You're lucky it was me who found you, you know that?!" He seemed angry. More than that, I almost thought I could see a trace of... fear...in him. But I had to be imagining things. He wasn't Al.

"You shouldn't have bothered."

"I'm sorry!" he blurted. "I told you I'm not good with people. I know, you're probably thinking, who the hell hired him. Who knows, maybe you're right. But despite what you're thinking, I do care. I watched you for four years, hoping each day for a change. Praying you'd wake up and stop wasting your life away. And I worked each and every day for a way to bring you out of it, even when everyone else thought you were hopeless. I didn't believe it. I believed you could beat the odds. So tell me I was wrong. Tell me and I'll leave you alone to waste away."

Something in his words struck a chord inside of me. It reminded me too much of.. the other Al. "Why?" I whispered.

He shrugged and looked down. "I just... had a feeling you were alive inside there, just waiting for someone to wake you up."

Waiting for you?

Reality was a scary, alien world, full of contradictions and confusion. My world was falling out from under my feet and I had no idea where I'd land--or if I'd land anywhere. Maybe I'd even changed something drastic during my leaping, so that now, this was reality. Whatever, it seemed all I had.

I looked up at him, tears blurring my eyes as I fought to understand.

"Why?" I whispered. "Why did I make it up?"

He sighed and reached out. What else was there to do? I came to him.

He put his arms around me almost hesitantly. "I wish I had an answer for  
you. Maybe, with your help, one day I will have."

"I don't understand," I continued to cry. "It was so real..." I was stuck on that one fact, it kept playing inside me and wouldn't go away. If not for it, maybe I could believe what they wanted me to.

"Your case is a breakthrough. I don't know why, but for the first time, someone can remember vividly what it was like inside that world. Don't you want to help others free themselves?"

"Maybe they like it better where they are, too."

"Maybe you're afraid of giving this world a shot," he countered. "From what I read, the only thing different in yours is a project that left you trapped in time--unable to get back to your world. And Al."

"He was all I had...

"But you're home now."

Home? How many years had I longed to be there. I didn't know it would mean without Al. The extent of my dependence on him was a staggering and sobering concept. Especially if he wasn't even real...

"I want to try cutting off the medication," I finally said.

"You can't--"

"Hear me out, please. You've got to help me. I have to know for sure, don't you see? I can't rest until I do. If I lapse back into leaps again, I'll know you're right." Or maybe it'll get me back to my own universe, I thought to myself.

"We might not be able to bring you back again!" he insisted. "Or is that what you're hoping for?"

I shook my head. "I want the truth. If it's not real, then I don't want it. Because it means I'll never stop leaping. But--" I looked at him with my most earnest gaze. "I guarantee I'll never get well until I try. Never be able to give up on the possibility. Please, Al..."

I could see the battle inside him. I waited, eyes pleading for this one thing. Willing him to see how strong my need was.

"Okay," he finally rasped. "But you know if I get caught--it'll mean my job.

Tears of gratitude stung my eyes. "Thanks, Al."

* * *

I couldn't believe it, but I actually found myself agreeing to letting him stop the medication for a few days. How could I refuse? He was looking at me with those eyes again. And he made sense, damn him. I could see it in his face every day; I was torturing him by asking him to believe us against himself without proof.

You can't go beating a dead horse, I always say. If he wanted...whatever he wanted, it wasn't up to me to force him, right?

So I stopped finding inventive ways to sneak his medication on him and he convinced the nurse he was agreeable to taking it. And each day I'd come in and remove the evidence in his wastebasket. I watched him go downhill rapidly until he wasn't responding at all. After the agreed upon time limit was up, I started administering the drug again.

Now, I sat on his bed, waiting for a sign. For him to respond to the medication again. And deciding to completely give up human patients after this one.

* * *

I was on a grassy slope somewhere in the mid-west. After all my leaping, I'd gotten used to quickly assessing my situation. It was a nice spring day, so I lay back, stretching out my body. It felt good.

I was alone at least, that gave me a chance to get a better hold on things. I was about to look for a wallet to check on the identity of the person I'd leaped into, when Al showed up.

"Where the hell have you been?!" he demanded.

I stared at him. He looked terrible, like he hadn't gotten much sleep lately. "What are you talking about? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry, Sam," he said, wiping a hand across his face. He pulled out a cigar. "It's just that this is the longest between-leap time we've had yet. I was starting to get a little antsy."

"A little?" I asked, smiling at the obvious concern in his eyes. When a person was out there, alone in a strange place, it helped to know someone cared.

Helped? It was everything.

"Okay, so I was worried about you," he admitted in a gruff voice. "Anyway, you're here now." He brought up the link. "Your name this time is--"

"Al--" I cut him off. "We have to talk first."

"I know." He shoved the link in his pocket.

"Something weird has been going on. I was in a leap--wasn't I?" I suddenly remembered a hospital, another Al telling me I'd been...

"Did you leap out?"

"I don't remember..." No. "I'm scared, Al."

"I know, kid. But everything will be okay. Trust me."

"Always." I smiled. I looked around me, finally coming to the conclusion this was just a dream. Wasn't it? I decided it had to be. There was something about it that was different, surreal. It wasn't a leap. Maybe I didn't want it to be...

"Am I ever going to leap all the way home?" I finally asked.

He averted his eyes for a minute, then turned back to me. "I'm not sure you can."

I stared at him. Never once had he said anything like that to me. "Why didn't you tell me before?" I accused.

"I had to keep your hopes up, didn't I? It's been four years, Sam. If you were going to--" He turned his head away again, and I knew he was hiding tears. "I'm sorry, Sam."

"That's it? You're sorry?" I scrambled to my feet, towering over him.

"Calm down and listen to me. You're still here, leaping around in time to help people."

"Forever," I answered.

"That depends on you."

There was something different about Al, but I couldn't place it. It bothered me. The whole conversation did, but I had no choice. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"Ah, Sam... you're never coming home." He waved a hand through me. "And all I can be is thin air. Maybe you should just--stay in a leap this time."

"Why didn't you tell me all this before?" I asked, trying not to cry.

"You weren't ready to hear it then. Beeks felt it might push you over the edge." He sat down on the grass at my feet. "I knew this day would come eventually."

I sat down next to him. The sick feeling in my stomach grew. It was a nightmare I'd had often over the years, a scene I hoped never to play awake. "But I'll never see you again. You know I can't make it without you." I tried again to prevent the tears. When it didn't work, I let them flow, noting his had started, too.

"You always were quick to spring a leak," I told him, trying to smile. "Even with all your gruff talk about hating mushy scenes...

"I did my job, Sam. It's time now. He's real, I'm a hologram."

I shook my head in denial. "I can't--"

"You can. You're not alone. And I'll always be with you, in here," he pointed a finger in the vicinity of my heart. "Just as I'll always remember you."

"How could you let me go?!" I yelled. "We were partners!"

"Were, Sam. I can't help you anymore. It's better this way."

Maybe he was right. He deserved a life other than living inside the Imaging Chamber. But I didn't want him to be right.

"I can't say goodbye."

"I know."

I hugged myself, feeling a cold wind through my very soul, even though the sun still shone. "I can't even get a goodbye hug from you."

"Hug him, Sam. I'll feel it, I promise." He brought the link up one last time.

"No..." I still had to protest. With him gone, there would be no one who knew the real Sam Beckett. He'd been the only one, it was always him. I decided it was a dream. And when I woke up, everything would be okay.

"You can do it--I know you can. Be strong for me."

"But..."

"Promise me."

I didn't want to. But he was waiting. "I...promise."

"Goodbye, Sammy. I love you."

* * *

When it happened, it happened quickly. One second Sam was lying on the bed, no change in his comatose state, the next he was bolt upright. I almost fell backwards off the bed in shock.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

He didn't answer. Instead, he grabbed me in a tight crush, burying his face in my neck. He seemed to be aware and that made me weak with relief, but if I had to sit there one more time and watch this man cry his heart out in my arms...

"I did what you wanted," he mumbled. "He said goodbye..."

"Please don't cry, Sam. I know how it hurts, but...damn!" If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, they always say. Besides, crazy as it was, I was kind of fond of the guy myself. Even if he was military.

I finally became aware of Sam staring at me. His crying had trickled off some. Mine hadn't. I guess that's what did it.

"Why are you crying?" he whispered.

"Beats the hell out of me," I joked, giving a watery chuckle. Then I turned serious. "This Al of yours is a great guy, definitely something to aspire to. He cares about the world and its people... he's a wonderful image. Maybe--maybe I can try and keep him alive--in here," I pointed to my chest. "If we both remember him, then he's not gone, is he?"

I got another of those warm answers of his. And I finally realized what he reminded me of. An innocent little boy. And Al was his greatest hero worship image. Now, it was me he'd cling to with those sweet arms. If I let him down, if I... Somehow, I couldn't. Someday, when he'd grown and matured, he'd go out into the world and make his way, like he'd started to when life took too much from him. Until then, it seemed like I had... if not a son, a charge. It wouldn't be so bad. In fact, maybe I'd end up with another portrait for the mantle and another surrogate family. Not bad at all.

"I'm not that Al," I whispered. "But I'm here. And I care very much."

His arms tightened.

"Let's talk," I suggested when he'd quieted. At his nod of agreement, I scooted up beside him, leaning against the headboard of the bed. He said no more, waiting for me to begin.

I thought carefully about my next words. "He said goodbye. How do you feel about that?" I asked.

"I--he did it for me," he said in a low voice.

"Makes it kind of hard to argue, huh?" He nodded again. It was time for the big question. "Are you convinced now? Can you go on from here, satisfied?"

"I guess I have to be," he began reluctantly. "Besides, it doesn't matter anymore. He let me go."

"Maybe he was doing the best thing for you. What do you think?"

He shrugged. He looked so forlorn, I wanted to do anything to take that sadness away, put back the light that no longer shone in his eyes. He couldn't give up now, come this far back only to fade away from loneliness.

"I just want to sleep now," he told me with a weariness that wasn't physical. His pretty make-believe world was gone and he was stuck in dismal reality.

I had to give him something to help make it easier. So, like a man who didn't know how to swim, I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and jumped off the diving board. "Can I be your friend?"

His head whipped up and he stared at me.

"I know I'll never be him, but if you could use a friend... .So could I."

He studied me, faint hope warring with caution. "That's a strange method of therapy."

"It's not," I told him. "I mean it." Truthfully, it was as much a surprise to me as it was to him. But I had to admit, he'd been more than just a patient for a long time now.

He looked into my eyes for a few moments, with a probing which made me uncomfortable in its thoroughness. "I'd like that," he finally said with a shy smile.

I had a feeling I was going down for the third time.

* * *

In the days that followed, Sam went through a mourning period. He was quiet and withdrawn. Whenever I was around, he acted as if I was doing him the greatest favor anyone could ever do by spending a little time with him. He was refusing to talk about his Al at all. Mourning progressed to denial. He had to work them both out, break through into acceptance.

I hurt for him, watching him like that. There was something about the guy, you couldn't stand to see him in pain. At least, I couldn't. Knowing I was the cause didn't help a hell of a lot, either. I could only hope it would pass soon.

I'd figured out his reactions were definitely stronger than simple friendship. It was something I doubted he was aware of, or even should be. No reason he ever had to face that. Besides, his Al wasn't even a real person. He was a part of Sam he'd lost. Someone created to help him survive and deal with his pain. Once he learned to live with that, I hoped he'd be okay.

* * *

A mental hospital is a real cheerful place to be, especially if you're an inmate. Yes, me. That's the part that hurt the most, knowing instead of a brilliant quantum physicist in the middle of an adventure he'd created with his own experiment that--more or less--worked, I was a nutcase. Hardest, you ask? Yeah, I know. What about losing Al... I never really had Al. He wasn't real. I was a sick, demented, lost soul who'd made up an imaginary playmate when he couldn't deal with reality. Every time I thought about that I wanted to throw up. I felt betrayed by him and, mostly, by myself. The raw, aching hole inside of me had been filled with a phantom, a ghost.

Sometimes, I wanted to die. I'd never tell the doctors that, of course. I tried to keep optimistic, to wonder what new life would come from the ashes of the destruction of my mind.

Sometimes he was so much like Al. At first, I rejected that, forcing my distance and refusing to even like him anymore than I could help. Then when I wanted his friendship, the knowledge that I was his 'patient' and probably nothing more, tore down my spirit further But like my Al had told me, he was there, touchable. If I just reached out. I could win him over eventually, earn the friendship he'd offered out of kindness and pity. Now that I knew the other Al wasn't real, I didn't want to--couldn't--dwell on him. It was only a painful reminder of how crazy I'd been. I needed a new start.

The first thing I had to do was get well--or at least enough to fool them into letting me out. It would be easier for Al if I was on equal ground with him. I questioned myself on my new goal in life, but the bottom line was still the same. After four years of relying on someone else, even if that person wasn't real, I desperately needed a real friend. I needed him.

He wasn't my Al. There were plenty of differences. But he was a warm, caring person, fun to be with, and he made me feel good about myself--no easy feat these days. He didn't smoke, that was a plus. His voice was slightly different, softer. His manner, quieter and gentle. I studied him carefully, learning all I could and filing it away for future reference. I didn't want there to be any confusion, it wouldn't be fair.

He wasn't my Al. Yet.

* * *

I'd had enough. By now I was willing to try drastic measures to bring Sam out of his melancholic introspection. At least get him to talk to me about it. So I invited him over to my apartment for lunch. The happy astonishment on his face was worth it alone.

It was a nice day and the hospital was within walking distance, so we skipped the car. Sam enjoyed all the freedom he could get. I couldn't blame him, I was more than happy to get him away as much as possible. Hospitals were no place to get well. My radical idealism talking again; I never believed locking people up was the way to cure them. No, I didn't have a better idea yet, but I was working on it.

We were sitting on the floor, bowl of Nachos between us. Pythy was curled up against his side and he was petting her. I took the time to study him closely. I wasn't sure the quietness was a good sign or bad, but today, I was going to find out.

"I can't believe she remembered me," he said quietly, eyes glistening. "After all this time."

I couldn't blame her--Sam Beckett wasn't someone you forgot easily. "She loves you."

"At least someone does." It was said so low, I barely heard.

"What about your family?" I asked reproachfully.

He just shrugged, his favorite non-reply.

"Depression might be a side-effect of the drug you're on," I informed him. He shrugged again. We weren't getting anywhere at this pace.

"You know," I began, in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere. "This isn't exactly approved therapy procedure." I gestured around the room.

I was rewarded with a mischievous smile. He went over to the couch and flopped onto it on his back. "Is this better?" he asked.

"Wiseguy!" I grumbled pleasantly.

"Guess I meant it when I said some other time," he mused.

"Huh? You lost me."

"When you asked if I wanted to lay on your couch," he explained.

I shook my head. "It's hard keeping up with that perfect memory of yours. Makes me feel inadequate."

"Sometimes I wish it wasn't so good."

"I know." There was my opening. I was about to pursue the topic further, when we heard the sound of a key in the lock. Wonderful, perfect time for Tony to return.

He opened the door and stepped inside, one glance taking in us both. "Well, it's good to see you've kept 'busy' while I've been gone, Al," he commented dryly. Not that he really cared, that was obvious, too.

"Uh--" A brief flash of panic froze my voice. I cursed myself for not telling Sam about him earlier.

Sam sat up on the couch and was looking at Tony with mild curiosity. This wasn't exactly the scenario I wanted to break the news in.

"Tony, this is Sam Beckett. You remember I told you about the patient at Quantego?" I hoped to deflect the situation. If Tony would let me.

"Hooray for therapy." He dismissed us in his typical manner, going over to the desk in the corner to sort through his mail.

I jumped to my feet. "Well, Sam, we'd better get you back, it's getting late."

He didn't comment on the fact that we'd just gotten there, merely got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. "Nice meeting you, Tony," he said politely, following me out the door.

He was quiet after that, seemingly lost in his thoughts. Not another word was said until we got to the bridge and he stopped to lean against the railing, looking down into the stream.

I stood beside him, no idea what was coming. I didn't know how he'd take the news.

"Who's Tony?" he finally asked.

"He's, uh..." There was no way to ease into it now. I'd waited too long as it was. "My lover."

He nodded as if it hadn't come as a surprise. "Why didn't you tell me you're gay?" He didn't seem upset. He gave me the impression of a man working on understanding.

"I--it's part of my personal life. I didn't feel you needed to know."

He knew a lie when he saw one, thankfully. "I thought we were friends?" He finally looked at me.

I sighed. "We are. Okay, so I figured you had enough of your own crap to deal with, without added crap."

He sighed, a combination of fondness and exasperation. "You're just like Al."

"Oh, boy," I mumbled. I'd picked that little expression up from his notes.

By unspoken agreement, we began walking again.

"You're not mad, then?" I ventured.

He cocked his head at me, smiling slightly. I could that expression easily. It said, I'm pleased that what I think matters to you. "Mad? Why should I be? I've always been... open-minded. I wish you would have thought you could tell me sooner, but I understand why you didn't. Besides, I'm still your patient first."

In a totally crazy move, I slung my arm around his shoulder. "No. You're my friend first."

His smile became a grin. It was so easy to make him happy, it took so little. And it felt good, too good.

"How long have you been together?" he asked.

"Three years." Strange to realize, Pythy had been with me longer. "That seems to be my limit in these things." A hint of bitterness crept in and I bit down on it. He had enough of his own problems, without getting into mine.

"I hope I didn't cause any trouble between you."

"Doesn't matter anymore. We're more like roommates these days, anyway."

"Then why do you stay with him?"

I sighed. "Too much bother to break up, I guess. He has his life, I have mine. Splitting the rent gives us both extra money to play with. It's convenient."

"Sounds lonely," he commented.

He was getting too close for comfort. Besides, I was the one who was supposed to be analyzing him, not the other way around. "I don't remember one of your degrees being in psychology."

"I just--" he paused, then went on, "thought friends help friends..."

He was pushing again. He knew it and I knew it. He fell into an almost apologetic silence. He was so afraid of rejection, almost as if he didn't feel himself worthy of friendship. I wished I knew why.

"You're right--again," I found myself saying. "But sometimes we don't have choices. We can look, but we don't always find. Sometimes we just have to settle for second or third or forth or...

"Or make up somebody," he said lowly.

Was he implying something with the comment? But I couldn't ask him something like that. Oh, by the way, were you in love with your imaginary playmate? He was having enough trouble just accepting his elaborate imagination.

"I like your way better," I told him. "But you know something? I've found it easy to be lonely even when you have a lover. But you can't be lonely if you have a friend."

I got a big hug for that, and for the briefest of a second, could almost have sworn I felt lips on my neck.

* * *

Al was gay. Just another huge difference in Als. Imagining the other Al's reaction to that one made me laugh. The question was, how did I feel about it, what did it mean to me? It meant he made love with other men. Did that bother me? No. So what did it make me feel? Intrigued? Fascinated? Curious?

One thing it did make me do is realize how long it'd been since I'd made love to anyone. Since I'd felt love surround me and warm my soul.

The days began to drag on, endless, broken up only by my time with Al.

I'd read through practically the whole library of Congress--at least it felt like it. Wrote down every single leap that I could remember, spent endless time lost in my thoughts...

I was bored. I wanted out and it made me antsy and irritable. As far as I was concerned, I was the picture of mental health and I couldn't understand why they insisted on keeping me prisoner. Al was sympathetic, but unrelenting. I wasn't ready to face the world yet--according to them. If I didn't get out soon, I would go crazy. Even flirting with Tina didn't help relieve my... cabin-fever.

I was keeping things from myself again. I'd learned to do that, even without the elaborate 'other world' to hide in. In plain terms, one of my problems was I needed to get laid. Tina was a no-go. It seemed everybody in this hospital was obsessed with the 'hands off the patients' taboo. Besides, I didn't want to use anyone for simple physical gratification. My left hand didn't seem to mind, but it wasn't enough. Why? Periods of going without another body were a part of life, something everyone got used to. Why the sudden need that overwhelmed me?

Sexual tension. Why? What was it I wanted, if it wasn't a one-night stand? Love. I needed love. Fat lot of good it did me, stuck in a hospital.

Just where was I going to find it? Besides, Al had said it--a person can feel just as lonely even with a lover.

But not with a friend.

It was true, I'd always believed love wasn't wrong in any of its forms. I just hadn't had the opportunity or inclination to practice what I preached. Love is part of friendship, the other Al had said long ago in a dream. And I couldn't say the thought never crossed my mind. That I'd never wondered...

So how did I really feel about Al's revelation? I felt like the world was suddenly open and bright like a sunny day with endless possibilities. Limitless and ever expanding, no barriers, nothing to hold a person back.

Would it be so wrong for two lonely people to share some warmth and comfort? Answer: it wouldn't be wrong. Next question: could I convince him of that?

I didn't mean to put it in such cold terms. Al was all I had. Once acknowledged, I couldn't deny my need--my love. It was swallowing me up.

* * *

I sat on the couch, listening to the sounds of cooking in the kitchen and wondering if Sam was feeling sorry for me. When be heard Tony was away again, he'd offered to make us a big Mexican dinner. Maybe it was just his desire to escape the confines of the hospital, using any excuse. I couldn't blame him.

Except he'd been different tonight, skittish almost. His eyes were dark and mysterious, as if they held some secret. It in turn made me apprehensive.

He entered the room, wiping his hands on his jeans, and sat beside me on the couch. "Be ready in an hour," he informed me. "But I have to warn you," he added with one of his killer smiles, "this is a recipe for a Mexican/Italian casserole that Al gave me once."

I looked at him. An imaginary recipe from an imaginary person... I had a feeling my life would never be quite the same now that Sam Beckett was a part of it. "Now he tells me. Oh, well, live dangerously, I always say."

"Glad to hear it."

"How are you feeling tonight?" I asked, always the doctor. Old habits die hard. I rubbed absently at the stiffness in my shoulders, making a mental note to find time away from my work to start exercising again.

"I'm okay." His hands replaced mine, massaging gently. "Too much sitting bent over the desk?" he asked.

"I guess." A thread of silky unease was winding itself around my insides.

He continued his massage and he was good. I found myself leaning against his chest, eyes closed, aware only of the feel of those hands.

Abruptly, I was uncomfortable with the position. There was something about it...warning bells were going off.

I jumped up, covering my sudden action by heading to the bar to fix another drink. "You want something?" I could have bit my tongue.

He smiled. "Sure."

When he didn't specify what kind of drink, I made us both Tom Collins.

Before I was finished, he came up behind me. "Make mine a virgin," he said in a quiet but silky voice. I could hear the smile, didn't dare turn around to look.

I swallowed on a suddenly dry throat. "I was intending to," I answered with only the barest trace of unevenness in my voice.

It had to be true. It couldn't be true. He wasn't trying to seduce me... was he? "Here," I turned to hand him his drink, not realizing how close he was until I collided with his body. With his warm, solid, male body...

His arms went around me to steady me. But they didn't let go.

This was crazy. He was my patient, needed my help. Yet, I'd known the danger. I was aware of the possibility of repressed homosexual feelings in his obsession with his Al. I'd been lying to myself. I thought I wouldn't have to deal with it.

I pulled out of his arms, saying the one thing calculated to put a quick stop to things. "I'm not Al."

"I know." He met my gaze steadily.

I backed away, towards the couch again. He followed, so I detoured around the back of it. "We can't--"

"Why not?" he asked, still advancing slowly.

I moved to the dining room, around the table. He still followed, a look of determination on his face. It should have been laughable: I was being chased around my own house by a good-looking man in the mood. And I was running. But I didn't feel like laughing.

"Sam, please... Things seem confusing right now, but you've got to--" I turned to escape and ran into the wall.

He was there, pressed close against my back, melting my insides as he slipped his arms around me.

"No..." I whispered feebly.

"Yes..." he whispered back, lips moving to my neck. I shivered. "I know everything you'd say. But you're wrong. So maybe you're just lonely, but maybe I'm just horny because I haven't gotten any in four years. What's wrong with us sharing a little comfort? I need you, Al," his voice broke and I felt like crying. "And maybe... you need me."

If I hadn't put my professional reputation on the line before, here I was with another opportunity to kiss it goodbye. What did I do?

I kissed him hello.

* * *

Sam was so beautiful, so needful, begging for so much. I gave what he asked, and more. My heart burst with an irresistible desire to open myself fully to him. Let him take what he needed, drink from the well until his thirst was quenched. And if it never was, that was okay, the well was bottomless.

I could deny this man nothing. I was a piece of clay for him to mold as he would. With the others, it was they who'd needed me. With him, strangely, his dependence tore me asunder until I was the one in need. It was time I admitted it to myself. From the beginning, I felt inexplicably drawn to him. When he responded to the drug, the feeling only grew. I was lost, he'd found me. Whether he took me home or left me there, didn't seem to matter so much. Right now he needed the love only I could give him. And, honestly, three years of love with Marty would have been much better than three coldly platonic, lying, pretending years.

I couldn't pretend this time, didn't want to. I was hopelessly in love with Sam Beckett.

* * *

I guessed we were going to have a late dinner. At least Al managed to turn the stove off before we slipped into the bedroom; I could remember a time or two when I'd had to deal with charred remains.

But I couldn't ever remember feeling this good, at least in a long, long time. I guess I was a little crazy, but Al didn't seem to mind. I had this overpowering urge to try and meld my body with his, fuse flesh and tissue until I was at last inside of him.

It was something the other Al could never give me. For that, maybe, it was all worth it.

I looked at Al, sleeping peacefully. The truth swamped me with an undeniable intensity. My searching was over.

My Al...always.

I should have known on that grassy slope where nothing seemed real. It had felt wrong, something out of place. It wasn't like the others. Now I knew--it really was a dream. Just an uncomplicated dream, all in my mind. I never did get a goodbye from Al.

The answer was so simple. I'd once said I couldn't make it without Al--and I hadn't. I'd gotten as far as Starbright. You see, this man sleeping in my arms was my Al. Somehow, in all of the billions of ways I'd altered time while leaping that I wasn't even aware of, something I did ricocheted. I'd changed history one last time. Changed Al's life drastically and mine with it. Instead of joining the Navy, becoming the Al I knew, he became a research psychologist. And without him, there was no Project Quantum Leap. The electric shock I'd gotten at Starbright--which I now remembered had been avoided by Al the first time around--sent me here.

I no longer had to feel guilty about deserting Al. I had no intentions of ever doing that. We'd found each other yet again, and that only proved we were meant to be.

It felt right. But was it true, or just another way my mind had of dealing with things? I didn't care. And it didn't matter anymore, this was reality now, regardless of why.

Al would probably call that a breakthrough.

There were many more questions. Maybe I'd be strong enough to want to find answers for them one day, maybe I wouldn't.

Al was here and that was enough.

I snuggled down against him contentedly. He stirred, opening his eyes to look at me.

"You are my Al," I told him.

He smiled, pulling my head down for a sleepy kiss.

* * *

People were giving me strange looks. It was most probably the stupid grin I wore most of the time, that I couldn't get rid of if I'd wanted to. Which I didn't, of course.

That night was just the beginning for us. We finally sneaked Sam back to the hospital sometime that morning and pretended he'd been there all night. Tina swore to it, too. Sometimes I have the crazy feeling that girl knows more than she lets on with her quiet, unassuming front.

Sam told me about his theory. Did I believe him? Maybe not, but I didn't not believe him, either. Hell, anything is possible. Like he said, it didn't matter anymore. We'd stopped butting heads over it and that was a good step. If it was the only way he could deal with reality, so be it. It worked.

I was impatiently waiting for Tony to get back so I could break it off with him. I had no idea if anyone would find out about Sam and me--I'd been able to keep my other relationships quiet. But I didn't care anymore. Which was probably a good thing, considering the type of person I was in love with. Sam was... possessive. And I was loving every minute of it. My relationships had always been open, it was a joy to belong to someone, finally.

He got me to recommend his release--on the stipulation that he continue therapy on an out-patient basis. With another doctor. In a week, he'd be a free man again. I wondered what he'd do with that freedom. About all he was certain of was that he wanted to pick up his career where he'd left off... and me. It looked like my treatment had worked after all. Hell, if I'd known sleeping with me would be the breakthrough he needed, I would have taken him into my bed long ago. Gladly. Unfortunately, I'd had the crazy idea it would do more harm than good. That's what I got for listening to conventional psychological procedure. It doesn't always apply. As I was rapidly finding out--especially with Samuel Beckett

He was considering writing his experiences down for posterity, mostly to help me with my work. When I'd first approached him with the idea, back when he was just coming out of it, he'd balked. Said his Al was too private. Now, he was willing to give it a try. He said someone that special should be shared with others, not hidden away. This time I was the one who hesitated. After all, if there was even the most remote chance he was right about really leaping, those experiences wouldn't apply to the work I was doing with mental illness. He loved hearing me say that, of course.

Besides, my drug had worked. That, in itself, was a breakthrough for other patients.

* * *

The day before Sam's release, I came home from the hospital to a strange sight. There was furniture all over the lawn and Sam was busy tossing more out the door. All Tony's. The continual odd questioning about what belonged to whom suddenly made sense.

"What are you doing?" I asked, making my way through the debris.

"Spring cleaning," he told me simply

I felt a grin breaking out. "Selective spring cleaning, isn't it?"

"It's about time you did away with those old things gathering cobwebs, so I decided to help you."

"And what am I going to replace them with?" I asked.

He came to me with slight hesitation and put his arms around my waist. "Me?" he asked shyly.

I squeezed him tight, a lump in my throat. God knew what the neighbors thought, but I didn't care. I think that can be arranged."

"I mean, I do need somewhere to stay, since I'm forced to remain in New Mexico for my outpatient treatment...and then there's Pythy, and since we're going to be working together on publishing the findings of my case...."

"You're leaving out the most important reason," I told him.

He waited for me to continue.

I cupped his chin in my hand. "I love you, Sam."

His smile was all the answer I needed, but there was more. "I love you, Al."

And guess what? I did get that family portrait after all. Of course it's of me, Sam and Pythy.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

 

THE END.


End file.
